By Antonia Case, from Womankind #12: Octopus.
I once found myself in a nondescript hotel at the tail end of breakfast; it was just me and the waitress, and two loud blabbermouths bantering about the merits of ham and pineapple pizza.
“I just love pineapple on pizza,” giggles the female, her face scrubbed clean, her waxed hair shining. Her male companion chortles outrageously in response, his vacant eyes gleaming.
I grimace and turn to the waitress. “Can you turn them off?”